Dream-Land
by Ibelieveinsam
Summary: Post 11x10: Sam isn't doing well at all after his recent trip to the cage, and he isn't willing to talk about it, not even to Dean. Will the return of an old friend lead him off the path of destruction or only make matters worse?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Remember back in January when I said I had a story that was begging to be written? Well this is it. I've been dealing with some stuff so it's been awhile (several months) since I've written anything at all. In fact, this is one of the first things I've written since "Mary, Did You know?" This takes place in Season 11, after The Devil Is In The Details, but before Into The Mystic so you can expect spoilers up through 11x10. The title of the story is taken from the Edgar Allen Poe poem Dream-Land. I thought it was fitting to publish this now just a couple days after Supernatural Day, which was September 13th, the day Supernatural premiered 11 years ago when I was just a 20 year old college student. Ah, the good old days.

A/N 2: I'd like to give a special shoutout to two of my best friends, Elena and Noha, who have been extremely supportive in helping me deal with a difficult time in my life and motivating me to keep writing. Thank you both.

* * *

 **Dream-Land**

 _By each spot the most unholy—_

 _In each nook most melancholy,—_

 _There the traveller meets, aghast,_

 _Sheeted Memories of the Past—_

 _Shrouded forms that start and sigh_

 _As they pass the wanderer by—_

 _White-robed forms of friends long given,_

 _In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven- **Edgar Allen Poe**_

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were sirens everywhere, glaring lights bouncing off the buildings, and a bright neon sign that wouldn't stop blinking even though he couldn't read what it said. Then there was the noise, so loud that it hurt his ears, a cacophony of voices shouting and the blaring sounds of all the emergency personnel. He covered his ears with his hands, but then he couldn't cover his eyes and was forced to look at what was on the ground before him and that was even worse. There was a baby stroller, crumpled like an accordion, and baby items strewn all over the road. A car was also in the street, the windshield smashed, splintered glass like cobwebs. However, that wasn't the most macabre sight as a bit further down on the black tar behind the car was the real carnage, bodies covered with sheets, two of them, one big and one small, bright red blood soaking through the white. A woman knelt over them, a high pitched guttural scream coming from her throat, but it was more like it was coming from somewhere deep within, from her very soul as she mourned over whoever was dead on the ground.

"He was drunk!" She screamed, finally, lunging around police tape, at a police officer and away from the gruesome sight.

The police officer tried to hold her back but she was insistent, trying to get at someone just behind him. Her arms thrashed out angrily.

"I nev'r saw 'em," a man slurred, and even though he was some distance back, an observer watching the scene, he could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath, see tears glistening in his eyes, as remorse for his actions set in.

Then the slurring figure emerged slowly, hands cuffed behind his back. His face came into focus, blurry at first but then startlingly clear. He was tall, thin, and pale looking, the glow of the sirens enhancing how wan he looked. There was a distinct look of panic is his eyes, as they darted around at the chaos around him.

 _No it can't be._

It was Sam Winchester and he was under arrest.

oooooo

The deconstruction of Sam Winchester was something that happened slowly, like a flower that had finished blooming. What once was a majestic blossom now just sat there faded, torn at the edges with its head hanging, until finally it was too heavy, and drooped there lifelessly.

When Sam had been rescued from the cage, he had told his brother Dean, that he wasn't okay, "not even a little bit."

That was the first indication that something was going on.

Yet, then he seemed okay. At least okay enough that no red flags went up. He functioned as in got out of the bed in the morning, got dressed, and ate breakfast. He made small talk with Dean, mostly about the darkness. He didn't go into detail about what he experienced and although Dean tried, Sam seemed to genuinely not want to talk about it. Dean wasn't going to persist and throw salt in the wound. After all, there were many times, he didn't want to discuss his emotions and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Maybe it was the same for his brother this time.

Yet, this was Sam. Alarm bells should have been sounding everywhere when Sam didn't want to discuss it, but maybe Dean was in denial then.

However, then there were signs, obvious ones. Whenever Dean asked Sam a question, he gave him a terse response, such as "yes," "no," or "okay." Then his replies became as simplistic as just nodding or shaking his head. He would stare off into space for moments at a time, his chin resting on his chest, a haunted look in his eyes. They had completed a hunt at a church though, so Dean wasn't panicking yet.

Still what happened during that hunt was the biggest warning of all. Sam seemed to zone out as if he forgot what he was doing for a second even as Dean was tossed into a wall bruising his hip. Sam _never_ let him down during hunts, no matter what was going on, even when he had Lucifer himself shouting in his melon when the wall came down. He pulled up his bootstraps and pressed on especially when it came to a job so this was completely out of character. Sam did snap out of it then, expressing concern over what happened, making sure Dean was okay, but then later at the bunker, he had returned to the same solemn state.

Dean wasn't sure what woke him on that particular morning two days later, but he was pretty sure that he hadn't been sleeping that long. However, now he was awake and he knew he wasn't falling back to sleep any time soon so he rolled over to get up. Sure enough, as he looked at the clock, he realized it was only 6:30 AM, an ungodly hour for him.

He got up gingerly, his hip pulling painfully as he stood, still sore from their hunt.

As he shuffled into the kitchen, he heard the sound of someone moving around and he knew just who it was.

 _Sam._

This wasn't the first time he found his brother wide awake when most normal people were fast asleep. Besides his other new idiosyncrasies, Sam got up earlier than normal, even before dawn. However, this time there was something different about his appearance.

As usual, he was seated at the table, hunched over a laptop. However, instead of a mug of coffee in front of him, there were empty bottles of liquor on the table, and a shot glass of whisky in his hand.

 _Now that's new,_ Dean thought, concernedly.

"You okay, Sam?" Dean queried. He had to admit he was getting a bit tired of asking this.

"Fine," Sam replied, curtly, throwing back the drink, scrunching his eyes as the acrid liquid stung his throat. He grabbed the bottle to pour another. It was empty and Sam frowned.

Dean signed heavily over Sam's response. He was used to him being quiet and moody now, but the drinking was not something he could just disregard. He knew if he pressed Sam to discuss it, he would wave it off. After all, they had more important things to worry about, such as Amara. Dean knew that Sam obviously was hurting but he couldn't gauge how deeply, although it was most likely pretty bad if the drinking was any indication.

"Think you should have some food to wash down that breakfast of champions over there?" Dean asked, nonchalantly as he reached into a cupboard for some cereal. The motion yanked at his hip and he winced.

"Are you in any position to judge?" Sam shot back, in more words than he had used in awhile, without even looking up from the screen.

"I'm not judging. I just don't think the results are going to be pretty," Dean responded, taken aback, trying to keep his anger in check. Sam was really starting to get on his nerves now. Sure he could overlook, or at least _try_ to overlook the bruised hip since Sam was so apologetic, but throwing cheap shots? No way.

"I'm a big boy. I can handle it. I learned from the best," Sam continued, pompously.

Dean felt his anger rise. What was wrong with him? It had been two weeks since the cage and he respected the fact that his brother had some heavy stuff to sort through, but he wasn't getting anywhere by acting like this.

"I'm not the one drinking at dawn, am I?" Dean said, gritting his teeth, setting the cereal down on the table, and moving to grab the coffee pot.

"Now, anyway," Sam replied, again refusing to look at him.

"Damn it Sam! What's your problem?" Dean yelled, whipping around, banging the table so hard that the cereal spilled out in front of him, unable now to keep his emotions in check.

Sam swiveled the chair to face him, his demeanor flat.

"Nothing. I'm just having some breakfast and doing some research," Sam shrugged as if the situation was completely normal. "You're the one blowing your top."

"Since when do you drink in the morning? Huh? You either want to talk or you don't."

Sam didn't respond, but he put his head down and rubbed his temple.

"If you aren't going to talk about it, then move on."

Sam again remained silent, but it was clear there was something simmering under the surface.

Dean bent down to look for the coffee.

"There's none left," Dean said, aggravated, realizing there wasn't any around. "You couldn't even go to the store, could you?"

"You just don't get it do you?" Sam said, finally, his voice rising.

"No, I guess I don't get the point in sitting around doing nothing and being useless. You were deadweight on the last hunt and I'm the one who paid for it! What are you so afraid of Sam? You aren't in that cage anymore. Lucifer's trapped and you're free!"

Sam got up then, angrily pushing in his chair and charging out of the room. Dean watched him retreat, making no effort to go after him.

oooooo

Sam headed back to his room, hearing the muffled sounds of Dean moving around in the kitchen. He was aware at some point that Dean had left. He guessed it was to go grab some coffee. He knew he wasn't treating his brother fairly and he had no idea why he was pushing his strongest support system away by acting like a jerk. It wasn't Dean's fault that he couldn't keep it together. Dean didn't understand how the brief time in the cage had affected him, how he had been triggered on their last hunt, and how he was so confused, about everything.

He felt like a building that had been ravaged by fire, the inside torn out and empty, so all that remained was a shell. Just how was that structure still standing? Damned if he knew.

Dean's words had stung but he knew they were true, had hit the point home. However, Dean said he was free, and that was a lie. He'd never be free. _Never._

He realized he must have dozed off at some point, his head pounding as he awakened. Dean had been right about his morning drinking not ending well. He felt sick with his stomach being filled with nothing but booze, but he couldn't eat, knew he'd never keep anything down. He also had an underlying fear weighing down on him as if he dreamed of something horrid that he couldn't quite recall. He checked his phone and saw it was almost 3. There were no notifications, no texts, or missed calls from Dean. The bunker seemed eerily quiet so he imagined that Dean had maybe come in and went back out. He couldn't blame him. He probably needed a break from him. Hell, he needed a break from himself but that wasn't going to happen.

He got dressed, not even bothering with a shower. He was aware he smelled like a brewery but he didn't care. What did it matter? He spotted a coffee on the table, as well as a muffin, so he knew that he was right that Dean had come home at some point but now he was gone. He left the food sitting there as he headed out with his laptop. He decided he'd find a library with some free wifi and do his research there.

He figured he had better walk and he turned up his coat collar, bracing himself against the bitter January air. He realized that he'd forgotten his cellphone as he was walking but he didn't think it was a big deal. Dean hadn't been calling him before and he'd probably be home before Dean even got back.

He relished in the warmth when he reached his destination, walking through the library doors. He discretely pulled a tiny bottle from his jacket pocket and took a swig, suddenly hit by a flashback of when he had a flask that contained demon blood. For a moment he thought he could taste it and he bit back the sting of vomit, instead focusing on letting the alcohol settle and scrape the chill from his bones.

He was as comfortably numb as he could be, seated at a table, zoned into his research when he heard someone sit down across from him. He nearly jumped out of his chair when he saw who it was.

 _Sully._

Yes it was him, right down to the rainbow suspenders.

"Hi Sam!" He said, his usual goofy grin plastered on his face, although Sam could see a haunted look in his eyes. If anyone knew that look it was him.

For a moment, he questioned why he was there. Was he really even seeing him? Was this some alcohol induced figment of his imagination?

"What are you doing here?" Sam whispered.

"We need to talk," Sully said, and this time he sounded nervous.

"How do I even know you're here?" Sam whispered, trying not to draw attention to himself.

"Tickle fight!" Sully shouted and began poking him in the ribs.

"Stop!" Sam yelled, jumping up.

He suddenly detected every eye on him in the library, staring at him like he was nuts.

"Sorry," Sam said to pretty much everyone. "Short in my laptop charger. I got a shock."

They looked doubtful but looked away.

"Okay, okay," Sam whispered again. "You're here. Why?"

"I need your help or maybe I need to help you, or I don't know. It's all so nerve wracking," Sully rambled.

"Does it have something to do with your friends again, or what? Something to do with Reese?"

"You don't smell too good," Sully said, wrinkling his nose, and ignoring his question.

"Yeah and people are looking at me pretty funny. They must think I'm a drunk having hallucinations."

"Oh so that's what that is," Sully said, nodding. "Do you want everyone else to see me too? Make it easier?"

"No, that would not make it easier," Sam hissed. "Now are your friends dying again or not?"

"No they're not, but-"

"Well then, I think it's best you leave me alone," Sam said, hastily slamming his laptop, grabbing his jacket from the chair, and running out the door. He had enough crap running through his head, and he surely didn't need to add his imaginary friend from when he was a kid too.

Sam shivered from the cold once he was outside.

"You...you dropped this," Sully stuttered, handing him the small bottle. "You should really put your coat on. You might catch a cold," Sully said, sadly, putting his head down. "Do you want some marshmallow nachos? Might make you feel better than that other stuff. It's bad for you."

"Thanks," Sam said, grabbing it from him. He shrugged into his jacket and plunged the bottle into the pocket. "And no. I'm not hungry. I don't need a lecture okay."

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's just you're different... but I'm so glad that you aren't...aren't going to jail."

"Jail?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, I don't know. I saw you getting arrested and I knew it couldn't be true. Sam Winchester is a hero. He'd never be in that kind of trouble."

"I'm not a hero," Sam said, matter of fact. "Never was."

"But you said..."

"Doesn't matter what I said. I was an idiot."

Sully bit his nails as Sam marched away from him. Seeing Sam looking relatively okay had reassured him that the accident scene he saw before had just been a horrible nightmare but now, he saw where he was headed, as the light around him grew dark. It was the bar just down the street. He saw the neon sign and again he saw it, all the awful things: the bodies, the woman screaming, and Sam being arrested. Somehow he knew it hadn't happened yet but it was going to. He'd had a vision, just like Sam. He had to stop his buddy, because if he didn't, Sam was going to kill people.

TBC

 _Let me know what you think._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. I hope you enjoy chapter 2. As always, if you can take a moment to review at the end, I would be very grateful.

* * *

Sully walked into the bar anxiously, hanging back, nervously looking around at the inebriated patrons around him.

"Hey, what's up?" A man, holding a large mug of beer, asked him. "Dig the suspenders, dude."

Sully was taken aback. How could this guy even see him? He shrugged it off. He knew the guy was pretty out of it so maybe he imagined it. He spotted Sam seated at a table, a couple of large mugs in front of him, and another in his hand.

He tentatively walked over and sat down beside him.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, without looking up.

"Something is wrong, Sam."

"Yeah?" Sam taunted. "And how would you know?"

"Because I'm your friend. You're different."

"You haven't been my friend since I was nine. It's called growing up. I'll tell you one thing though, you were right."

"About what?" Sully asked, suddenly hopeful, even though Sam's words stung.

"About how much of a failure I'd turn out to be," Sam replied, chugging back the whole mug of beer in one gulp.

"I never said that, Sam. You know I'd never say that."

"You said when I went on my first hunt, you thought it was your biggest failure," Sam said, while drinking another mug of beer. "You could see I wouldn't make a good hunter, and you were right. I should have went for something else. Maybe I should have run away with you. Probably would have been for the best, for Dean, for everyone."

"But Sam, you're awesome! You saved the world!"

"Stop saying that!" Sam snapped. He looked up again to see eyes staring at him, but given the condition of half the people in the place, he really didn't care since he blended in with the rest of them. He waved his hand to order another round of drinks.

"Sam, a lot of people would be dead if it wasn't for you."

"And a lot of people would be alive too, Sully."

Sam's drinks arrived and Sully watched forlornly as Sam threw back shot after shot. Sully got quiet then too, thinking of Audrey, and his own failures. Once the drinks were gone, they sat there for several moments, unspoken words hanging between them, like a fog, obscuring their vision, causing them to not see each other quite clearly.

"Ever think...you're worthless?" Sam stuttered, finally. "That nothing is going to be okay ever again?" Sam finished, his mood changing, softening.

Sully looked up, poignantly at Sam, but he had his eyes turned downwards at the table, nervously scratching his thumbnail across the surface.

"I went back to the cage," Sam continued. "And I..." he said, unable to finish, choking back a sob.

"You did Sam? Even though you were scared, you did it," Sully said, proudly. "And you're here. You beat Lucifer again. You're going to get rid of the darkness and you're safe."

Sam shook his head, looking Sully in the eye, trying to hold back the tears.

"What happened Sam? You can tell me," Sully replied, leaning in closer.

Sam put his head down again, so his hair fell into his eyes.

"Did God-"

"God doesn't care, Sully!" Sam shouted, cutting him off. "I was wrong. No one does."

"I care, Sam," Sully replied, truthfully.

"No one cares," Sam said, wiping his nose on his coat.

Sully's heart broke. Sam looked just like a lost little kid all over again.

"I can't believe I fell for it," Sam continued, ignoring him. "I mean I actually thought that God...," Sam's voice dropped off. "I was such an idiot," Sam finished, finally, a sob wracking his body, as one hot tear slipped down his cheek. He sniffled trying to pull himself together.

"Heroes aren't perfect," Sully said, quietly.

"I don't believe that, Sully. I'm sorry," Sam admitted. "Look I have to go," Sam said, composing himself and jumping to his feet, ignoring the wounded look on Sully's face.

"But Sam..."

"It's late, Sully. It's after 7. Dean's pissed at me as it is. I didn't tell him where I was and I didn't bring my cellphone."

"But Sam, I have to tell you something. Something awful."

"You can tell me on the way then," Sam replied, exasperatedly. "Crap I don't even have a car. I guess I'll have to hotwire-"

"No, Sam! You can't," Sully said, clutching his arm. "You're too sick to drive."

"I'm not sick, Sully. I had a few drinks. I'll be fine," Sam said, bustling past him.

"No Sam, please! Something awful will happen and you'll never forgive yourself."

"Yeah well I'll never forgive myself when I have to hear Dean reminding me how useless I am for the rest of the night," Sam said, walking more briskly to the door, trying to make his way past the rest of the people in the place. It was getting more crowded now that it was later.

They were outside now and Sully could feel anxiety taking a hold of him, causing him to freeze in fear. He had to stop Sam now, before it was too late.

Sam eyed an orange car, a classic that was parked just at the corner.

"That one looks good," Sam said. However, then he saw a guy walking towards it, or more like weaving towards it as he appeared to have had a few too many as well.

"Damn it!" Sam cursed. He shivered, his breath coming in small puffs, that blew out in front of him.

"Look what you did, Sully! I take it back. I'm not sorry for how I treated you when I was a kid. You really are a nuisance. You're just as screwed up as me, and you make life worse for everyone. Even my imaginary friend is damaged goods too."

Sully felt his stomach drop to the floor. This couldn't be his Sam. However, had he succeeded? That had to be the important thing, that no one got hurt. Sam wasn't behind the wheel so he was safe and so were those people.

Suddenly there was a commotion.

"Look out!" Someone yelled, as the orange car sideswiped another vehicle. However, there was a couple now in the road, pushing a baby stroller. They saw the car but they looked like deer caught in the headlights.

Sully couldn't help the sickening sense of deja vu that washed over him, as he stood there terrified. The man pushed his wife aside, but just as he was about to push the stroller forward, the car was headed right for them. Sully knew there was no time, that both the father and the baby would be struck, just like in his vision. However, from the corner of his eye, he saw Sam jump into action. He ran straight into the street, giving the man a shove, enough to push him and the stroller forward. The baby rolled toward the side of the road to its mother and the man rolled on to his side, shaken but unharmed. Sam wasn't so lucky though. Sully could see that he tried to move himself out of the way too, but he was going to be hit anyway. He watched Sam whip around to face the car as if to see if he cleared it. Then, he watched a horrified expression cross Sam's face, in a split second as the car's headlights illuminated Sam's features. The bumper hit Sam with full force in the left side and he rolled up on to the hood of the car, his head smashing the windshield. The impact was so brutal that Sam rolled right over the hood of the car as it continued its momentum forward. He landed in a heap facedown on the ground behind it.

"Sam!" Sully yelled. He ran toward his fallen friend, even while everyone stood there still in shock.

 _No, no this can't be happening again,_ Sully thought. _It's all my fault._

Sam's face was full of blood, his arm twisted unnaturally, tucked under him. He couldn't tell if he was breathing.

He placed his hand on Sam's bloodied forehead but he didn't know if Sam could feel it, and he cried.

"Help!" Sully screamed. "Help!"

He ran forward at the people staring at Sam on the ground.

"Help!" He yelled, in their faces. "Please!"

However, he realized no one could hear him, no one could see him.

Should he appear in front of everyone? There were so many people. He didn't think he had the ability to use his magic for such a crowd. He didn't know if that would be a good idea either as it might just distract everyone, when they could be helping Sam.

He knelt down beside Sam, watching the ground turn crimson underneath Sam's body.

"Sul...Sully," he heard a whisper so faint that he wasn't sure it was real.

"Are...are you there?" The voice asked again.

Sully realized it was coming from Sam. His cheek was pressed against the road, his eyes open but unfocused, as he struggled to speak.

"I'm here," Sully said, placing a hand on Sam's back, where he could feel Sam's breathing, jagged and irregular. "Don't worry. They'll get you help."

"Ever think...you weren't...going to make it?"

"Don't say that Sam. No, please!" Sully begged.

"P..please don't leave. I'm s..s..sorry," Sam said, tiredly, the words becoming even more difficult. "Tell...tell Dean...sorry," Sam gasped and coughed, as his eyes slipped shut.

"Sam! Sam, wake up! Please!" Sully begged, but garnered no response.

ooooo

Dean had gone out earlier and grabbed his coffee, even fetching one for Sam, as well as a couple of muffins. He supposed it was a peace offering even though he had no idea why they were fighting, really. He didn't blame Sam exactly, but at the same time, he didn't think his behavior was called for no matter what he was going through. When he got home, he was both relieved and angry that Sam was sound asleep. Eventually, he figured it would be for the best if he just went back out again and played a few rounds of pool to give them some distance. However, he'd been calling Sam nonstop for the past hour and got no answer. Despite everything, that worried him. However, he figured Sam was probably still sleeping it off. He was in a brighter mood since this morning because his hip felt better and he'd won a few rounds, so he hoped his good mood might be contagious.

When he walked into the bunker, he immediately spotted the muffin and coffee on the table, untouched.

 _Still sleeping then_ , he thought.

He headed straight for Sam's room but he wasn't there. The bed was a mess and there was no sign of him. However, his cellphone was just where he left it on the nightstand, a string of missed calls from him on it. Now he had to admit he was getting pissed again. His good mood dissipated quickly. He scanned the room and didn't see Sam's laptop around so he guessed he went out to research, at least he hoped so. He drove down to the closest library, within walking distance because he doubted Sam would drive. If he had more than one drink, he'd never get behind the wheel of a car.

 _Would he?_ Dean questioned it because Sam certainly wasn't acting like himself lately. He wasn't sure what time Sam had left the bunker. He'd left around 2 so surely Sam would have slept it off. Yet, he had a bad feeling.

He saw the library up ahead and parked. He got out and went in, scanning the room for any sign of Sam.

"You see a tall guy in here, shaggy hair, in need of a haircut?" Dean asked the woman at the front desk.

"You mean the one who talks to himself?" She asked, not looking up from her computer.

"Huh?" Dean asked, confusedly.

"He was on a laptop if that's any help," She said, finally looking up at him. "Brown jacket?"

"Yeah, that's him," Dean replied.

"He left a couple hours ago, still talking to his imaginary friend," She said, with a smirk.

Dean walked down the steps, totally confused. Talking to himself? Was this a new oddity to add to the list?

He was making his way to the car, when he saw something going on in the distance. He could see the sign for a bar and sirens dancing around it. His stomach lurched as he prayed that Sam was nowhere near the place.

He left the car parked, as the place was only a few yards away, and there was no way he could get through the parked emergency vehicles, as well as the crowds lining the sidewalks.

There was police tape around, and a young couple holding their baby was being interviewed by the police. There was some flurry of activity in the middle of the road but he couldn't make out a thing.

He tried to keep a level head even though he was pretty sure his heart threatened to pound straight out of his chest at any given moment. He needed to get information. He needed to find Sam.

As he tried to move forward, he was stopped in his tracks by-

 _No, it couldn't be._

Sully. It was Sam's imaginary friend. _Again._

"Dean! Dean!" He yelled, tears streaked across his face.

He knew then it was bad.

"Wha...what happened?" Dean struggled to speak.

Sully let out a whining noise as if he didn't want to say the words out loud.

"Tell me!" Dean growled.

"It's Sam, Dean. I think he's dead," Sully said at last, collapsing to the ground at his feet.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: The last few days, or should I say month, have been rough. It seems readership is down, just like my mood. Give me a shout if you're out there reading. Let me know what you think. I value your opinion whether positive or negative. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review, and I hope to see you back for the conclusion.

* * *

It took everything in Dean's power not to start shaking Sully right there. He pulled him to his feet as he continued to tremble and cry.

"He was drunk!" He heard a woman scream, and he looked over at the police tape. He realized it was the one holding the baby. "He could have killed my daughter," she sniffled, holding her close, while her husband tried to soothe her as well.

Sully realized this was just like in his vision, but different now because Sam was dead. Sam had been right. He had made everything worse. The woman's family was okay, but now Sam had paid the ultimate price. He'd much rather Sam be in jail, than be dead.

"This is just like what I saw, but only not the same because it's not supposed to be Sam," Sully mumbled. He'd never been so happy to spot someone he knew, that could see and talk to him than when he saw Dean, yet at the same time, he was terrified.

Dean continued to push his way through the crowd, feeling that Sully wasn't making much sense. In fact, the very idea of Sully being here at all didn't make much sense. However, he ignored all of that for now, trying to see if he could see Sam, but there was too much going on around him.

"Tell me what happened," Dean said to Sully, anxiously. The crowd was moving so slowly and he needed answers now.

"I had this vision and there was some people and a car and they were going to die," Sully rambled. "Then Sam ran out into the street and now he's dead."

"Sully, pull yourself together!" Dean yelled.

Sully looked stricken.

"For Sam," Dean said, softening, placing a hand on his shoulder, incredulous that he was calming someone else down when all he could think about was that his baby brother might be dead. "Tell me what you saw."

"It was awful," Sully whimpered. "Sam flew through the air over the car and finally the ambulance came."

"Why do you think he's...he's...," Dean trailed off, unable to speak, let alone fathom, the words.

"There was so much blood and they said they couldn't find a heartbeat and then they were shocking him with these paddles and he flopped on the ground. They did the same thing with Audrey...but...but...," Sully stuttered, tears spilling down his face.

Dean turned away from him, and continued to press on. Maybe Sully was wrong and it wasn't as bad as he thought. He refused to think otherwise. From what he could understand there had been a drunk driver based on the woman's comments and somehow Sam had been hit. He decided he'd focus on that for now until he knew more.

He followed the trail to where he knew Sam was, afraid of what he would find. He spotted Sam's laptop bag on the side of the road, the laptop hanging out of it, smashed. He stopped short and just stared, as Sully bumped into him. The screen was dangling off of it, wires hanging out. It was damaged beyond repair and Dean could not shake the thought from his mind that maybe Sam was too. He finally snapped out of it and kept walking further, until he saw the car. The windshield was caved in, and the bumper hung off like a severed limb. He could see the hood and roof were dented as images of his brother ricocheting off the car danced across his mind.

 _Maybe Sully is right. Maybe Sam is-NO!_

Dean waged war with his brain until he banished the idea from his mind.

He finally made it next to the ambulance but was stopped by a burly police officer who restrained him with a hand to his chest.

"You can't go back there."

"He's my brother!" Dean snapped.

The officer looked skeptical but then he motioned him forward. They weaved through people and around some law enforcement vehicles until Dean saw his brother.

It was just as awful as Sully had described it, even if he hadn't been entirely clear in the details.

Sam lay on the ground, his shirt sliced open, an array of medical supplies surrounding him on the ground. His shoes were gone and he realized that Sam was probably thrown right out of them. Dean shivered in sympathy as the temperatures had continued to dip and he imagined his brother to be freezing. There were electrodes affixed to his chest, as a paramedic pumped on his chest. Another gave Sam breaths with an ambu bag. Dean could see massive bruising on the left side of Sam's stomach up to his chest. They had placed him in a neck brace and blood from a head wound dripped down the side of his face on to it. They'd applied some type of tourniquet to Sam's arm which looked distorted and was bleeding profusely.

"Clear," a female medic yelled, and suddenly Sam was arching unnaturally off the ground.

Dean instinctively jumped and now he held his breath, hoping to see something, anything.

"Still nothing?" One of the medics asked.

The mood was completely grim, like a spectre looming just over the scene, and Dean felt his fear intensify.

"We've given him everything we've got. I'm thinking serious abdominal and chest trauma," the other medic replied, staring at the screen which displayed an irregular line.

Suddenly Dean rushed forward, as if he could do something to assist them.

He knelt down next to Sam and grabbed his arm, which flopped there lifelessly. His features were lax, lips blue in color, and besides the head wound, he had multiple cuts and abrasions from making contact with the asphalt.

"Sammy?"

"Sir, you need to move away." He was being pulled back by one of the medics.

"He's my brother!" Dean yelled into the night, nervously running his hand through his hair.

"We are doing everything we can," the medic told him.

They were pumping Sam's chest again, an EMT pausing to check Sam's pulse, then glancing at the screen.

Dean watched as the female medic shook her head gravely.

"Cease compressions."

Suddenly everything froze, all the frenzied activity surrounding Sam stopped, and the screen now displayed a flat line.

"Asystole," the other medic said. "Dead on scene?"

Dean was aware that Sully was still nearby, weeping uncontrollably next to him.

 _Dead on scene. Was that was his brother was now reduced to? Some vehicular accident code? No._

"You can't just quit!" Dean yelled.

He rushed at Sam again, but was held back for a second time.

"Sir, your brother had no breath sounds, no pulse, and was in cardiac arrest when we arrived. We've provided every lifesaving measure possible and he hasn't responded."

Dean ran at his brother's still body again and this time no one tried to stop him.

"Come on Sam!" Dean yelled, lifting Sam's upper body off the ground, his arms dangling by his sides. Dean realized Sam felt ice cold and he was deadweight, as he clutched him close.

 _On the last hunt, you were a deadweight, and I'm the one who paid for it!_ His words from earlier echoed in his ears and came back to haunt him. He had mistreated his brother, and now Sam was paying for it.

"They are giving up on you, but I'm not, okay? Doesn't matter what happened," Dean continued, as a tear rolled down his cheek. A silent hush fell over the crowd as if they united in his grief. Even the couple with the baby had approached the scene to see what was happening and had closed their eyes in sadness. He placed Sam back down carefully and stayed there, his knees digging painfully into the ground but he didn't feel it. Then he was aware he was being pushed aside again.

Suddenly he heard medical jargon being called out as the medics asked for another amp of epi, and another. He didn't know if his display of emotion had moved them to resume their life saving measures but it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting Sam back.

"I don't believe this. V fib!" the female medic shouted. Dean wasn't sure what that meant but he hoped it meant that there was some sign of life.

Then Sam was shocked over and over.

"V tach!"

"Let's hit him again," the male paramedic commanded.

Sam's body seized upward off the ground as he was hit with the electrical current.

"Again," the medic said.

The other medics still looked skeptical but Sam was shocked again.

Dean heard the word "holding" as he waited anxiously for some sign.

"We got something but it's irregular and fading fast. We need to move. He's cyanotic. He's barely breathing."

"Let's intubate and see if we can stabilize his airway to improve his oxygenation. If he doesn't get more air, he's just going to crash and we won't be getting him back again," the medic instructed.

Dean watched as Sam's head was tilted back and a tube snaked down his throat. They secured Sam on a backboard and got him on the stretcher, covering him with blankets. They continued bagging him as they pushed towards the ambulance.

"I'm going with him," Dean called, as they wheeled his brother away from him.

"You'll have to sit in the front," the medic said. "We need a team back here to be prepared for anything."

Dean hopped in the front of the cab, reluctantly, knowing that "anything" meant the very real possibility of Sam slipping away again. He tried to keep his ear to what was happening in the back, behind him. He could hear faint beeping in the background as the medics rambled off medications and complicated medical terminology, so he knew Sam was still alive at least. Other than that, he had no idea what was happening.

They moved at breakneck speed, cars moving to the side of the road to let them through. Red lights were not a hindrance as they raced to the hospital. When they arrived in the emergency bay, there was already a team waiting for Sam.

"Male. Early 30's. Vehicle versus pedestrian. Complete arrest when we arrived on scene. Expected abdominal and chest trauma. Open compound fracture of the ulna and radius. Vitals are all over the place," the medic rattled off to the doctor.

One of the doctors put his stethoscope to Sam's chest.

"I can barely detect any breath sounds," he said, as they began jogging down the hallway, pushing Sam on the gurney at a fast clip. "We are going to need portable x ray. Look at this," he said, gesturing to Sam's bruising. "I'm thinking pneumothorax and I can guarantee he's hemorrhaging somewhere."

Dean barely noticed when he was dragged aside, as Sam went rushing by him. He caught a glimpse of just how awful Sam looked under the harsh overhead lights of the emergency room. His skin looked gray and translucent, the bruising standing out in even more startling clarity.

He looked up to see who was pulling him away and it was a male nurse this time.

"You can't-"

"I know, I know okay?" Dean said, interrupting him. He couldn't be here, which made no sense because this is where Sam was and Sam was dying so this was the only place he should be.

"The waiting room is out there. Someone will take your information shortly."

Dean walked through the double doors, glancing one last time down the hallway where they'd taken Sam. He found a seat and nervously sat down.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up to see Sully then and jumped in his seat. He'd forgotten all about him.

"It's really bad isn't it?" Sully asked.

"About as bad as it gets," Dean answered honestly.

A disappointed look crossed Sully's face, as if he was looking for Dean to reassure him.

"I stayed with Sam in the back of the ambulance because I knew you couldn't."

"Yeah," Dean grunted, without looking up.

"They were poking Sam over and over because they said his veins-"

"Stop!" Dean yelled, suddenly, cutting Sully off. He realized he didn't want, _couldn't bear to_ , hear anymore. He'd already seen Sam's battered body endure more trauma than he needed to see in a lifetime.

A janitor mopping the floors looked over at him to see what was going on, but then resumed his work.

"Sorry," Sully said, sheepishly. "I held Sam's hand though, so I hope it helped."

"Thanks," Dean said, sincerely.

"Dean, I...I have to tell you something."

"Please Sully, not now," Dean said, placing his head in his hands. "Wait until we talk to the doctor."

Dean got up after 30 minutes of sitting, realizing the unforgiving chair had renewed the ache in his hip. He shuffled along again, painfully, as Sully's eyes darted back and forth watching him. He spoke to a receptionist briefly to give them Sam's information and now he couldn't even remember what he told them.

Finally a doctor emerged from the doors.

"We're getting ready to take him up to surgery. His injuries are vast. I think we can talk in more detail about the nature of those injuries if your brother pulls through."

"If?" Dean questioned, angrily.

"He's bleeding into his abdominal cavity and we're doing all we can just to keep him breathing. We'll talk after the surgery," the doctor said, calmly. "If it's any consolation, he's in capable hands," the doctor added, before rushing off again through the doors.

"He didn't say much did he?" Sully asked, once he was gone.

"It's usually like that," Dean replied, honestly, sitting back in the chair.

"Sam...he...he's been hurt a lot, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, in more ways than one," Dean said, digesting this himself. Sam was broken now both mentally and physically.

Sully was at a loss for words. He could see Dean was hurting, and he wanted to desperately tell Dean this was all his fault but he wasn't sure if it would just make everything worse. He didn't want Dean to demand he leave. What if he left Dean without a brother, just like he'd left Reese without her sister?

They sat in relative silence for several moments before Dean got up to pace some more. Sully could see he was in pain.

"What happened? Why are you walking like that?"

"Dinged my hip," Dean said, simply.

"On a hunt?"

"Yeah, church poltergeist. Sam was...distracted," Dean stuttered, looking for the right word.

"I noticed Sam seemed like he wasn't-"

"Sam?" Dean finished for him.

"But then he saved those people and I was looking at the same old Sam all over again," Sully said, changing the subject.

 _Sam saved them. He used himself as a human shield._

Dean had no idea why this was just dawning on him now. Of course. The mother and father with the baby. A drunk driver. Did he think his brother was now incapable of saving people just because he was going through something?

"I didn't realize Sam saved them," Dean admitted to Sully, and to himself that he had doubted Sam.

"Of course he did. Sam is a hero."

Dean nodded, and then felt a hitch in his chest as emotion suddenly struck him.

 _Does Sam know that?_ Dean wondered.

"But Sam doesn't think so," Sully said, sadly, as if reading Dean's thoughts.

Dean realized then that he hadn't been giving Sam much credit lately either. For a moment, he'd even felt surprised that Sam saved anyone because he'd just been so unfocused lately.

"Is that why you're here? To comfort him?" Dean asked.

"Um, well.." Sully hesitated. "I'm not really supposed to tell Sam's secrets, but he's _so sad_ , Dean. Not the kind of sad you get when your bike gets stolen, but the kind that comes from right here," Sully said, gesturing to his heart.

"The cage...it just...he hasn't been the same."

"He told me no one cares," Sully said, almost in a whisper.

Dean looked stricken.

"Sir, is everything okay over there?" Someone asked, interrupting their conversation.

Dean realized it was a doctor or someone who looked like one anyway.

"Is Sam okay?" Dean asked.

"Sam?" He asked confused.

"He's my brother. There was an accident."

"I'm sorry. I'm Jamal, one of the physician assistants here. I'm not familiar with his case. However, I just noticed you were limping somewhat and having a conversation with someone, but I didn't see anyone there."

Dean felt his temper flare, but the last thing he needed was to get in an argument and get kicked out of the hospital. He hadn't really been dwelling on the fact that he was the only one who could see Sully, and how that might look to someone else.

"Were you in the accident too?" He asked, concernedly. He pulled out a penlight and Dean backed up.

"No, I'm fine. Must have slept funny and I was just thinking out loud, helps calm me down," Dean replied, as an excuse.

"Let me know if you need anything," Jamal said, looking like he wasn't entirely sure if he should believe him. However, he retreated back down the hallway and Dean continued his pacing, until Sam's doctor appeared before him.

"I didn't introduce myself before. I'm Dr. Emilio," he said, putting out his hand.

"Dean," Dean said, as he shook it, wondering if the doctor could tell how much his palms were sweating.

"I apologize for my brusqueness earlier but we had to get Sam into surgery as soon as possible."

"How is he?" Dean asked nervously.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the one Sully was sitting in.

Dean felt his heart skip a beat. Being told to sit down was never a good thing in his eyes. Plus, Sully was sitting there looking terrified, and he couldn't exactly tell him that.

Dean looked at the doctor anxiously, who pointed again at the chair.

"I'll stand, thanks," Dean said. "How's Sam?"

"He survived the surgery," the doctor began.

Dean took a breath, all memory of the pain in his hip gone, even though he was leaning heavily on it.

"When Sam was brought in, we thought he had a pneumothorax or a collapsed lung because of his low oxygen levels. However, thankfully we have some smart doctors here who figured it out," he said, with a small smile. "We discovered Sam had a ruptured diaphragm, a muscle that sits just below the ribcage and plays a vital role in breathing."

"So you fixed it and he'll be okay, right?"

"There were complications," the doctor said.

 _Of course._

Dean wasn't surprised to hear that. There was always something else to deal with.

"Due to his injury, Sam suffered a traumatic diaphragmic hernia, which means his abdominal organs were pushed up into his chest cavity. You can only imagine the strain and pressure that puts on a patient's lungs, not to mention the strangulation of the organs."

Dean felt dizzy and sick. Strangulation? He visualized the amount of pain Sam endured and him physically suffocating before he stopped breathing all together. He realized Sully had vanished again, and he was grateful because he believed he was going to need to sit down.

"In addition to his most serious injury, Sam lost a large amount of blood. He was hemorrhaging into his abdominal cavity due to a ruptured spleen. Normally we'd try not to remove it. However, it was necessary to get the bleeding under control as fast as possible and repair the tear in his diaphragm."

"So he lost his spleen too," Dean croaked out.

"Unfortunately," the doctor said, soberly. "He also suffered that open compound fracture to his left arm. One of the bones nicked an artery which caused blood loss as well. It was touch and go, and frankly right now it still is. We almost lost Sam again on the table and from what I know, Sam went several minutes without oxygen before he arrived here. We have to monitor Sam closely for infection, brain and other organ damage, as well as other complications. What is most pressing right now is Sam's level of unconsciousness."

Now Dean knew he really needed to sit down. He plopped down in the chair, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

"Are you okay, Dean?" The doctor asked. "Would you like some water?"

Dean shook his head, even though his mouth was completely dry, his tongue like sandpaper.

"Do you want me to continue?"

Dean nodded, unable to form coherent words at the moment.

"Con...consciousness?" Dean squeaked out.

"Your brother is in a coma."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here we are at the conclusion of another story. Thank you so much to everyone for reading, reviewing and also for the follows and favorites. The reviews I received last chapter made me smile even though I have been feeling down. I hope you'll enjoy the conclusion to this story and that I'll see you next story.

* * *

"A coma?" Dean asked, aghast.

 _On top of everything else_ , he thought wearily.

"We aren't sure if it's due to the level of trauma he endured or something more sinister," Dr. Emilio continued. "We just need to focus on the positive right now."

Dean snorted out a mirthless chuckle. He was not seeing any silver lining right now, just enormous gray storm clouds crackling with lightening.

 _The positive? Seriously?_

"Sam survived the surgery and we repositioned his organs, taking pressure off his lungs, which was the first step," Dr. Emilio finished.

"Can I see him?" Dean asked.

"He's in recovery but someone will come down to escort you to the ICU once Sam is settled," the doctor replied. "You know it was fortunate that the impact was to Sam's left side, and not his right. The mortality rate is higher and there'd probably be liver injuries as well."

Dean nodded glumly. He couldn't make this doctor out. He had supposed positives for every negative, but they weren't really positives at all. Sam was nowhere near out of the woods. In fact, he was lost in them, somewhere.

The doctor left him then and he didn't move from his position, just sat with his chin resting on his hands, lost in thought.

A nurse came to get him not soon after, and they made the solemn walk to the elevators, up to the fifth floor, to Sam's room.

When he walked in, Sam was propped up in the bed slightly, the ventilator mechanically breathing for him. He had a feeling he'd see one given Sam's condition, but still it sent him reeling.

"I'm Gloria and I'll be Sam's nurse today," she said, as she approached Sam's bed. "Do you want me to explain what everything is?" The nurse asked.

Dean took it all in, the machinery, the heart monitor, the multiple IV bags suspended over Sam's head. Then he looked at Sam's face, a bandage on his forehead over his eyebrow covering a head wound, smaller cuts and roadrash on the side of his cheek. Sam's arm was propped up on a pillow, encased in a bandage and brace that extended from above his elbow to his hand.

"I think I know it all," Dean said, sadly.

"If you have questions, ask," She said, with a smile. "I think you've been informed about Sam's coma, but you can talk to him. They also have not placed his arm in a cast yet. They need to wait for the swelling to go down and ensure there is no infection present. I'll be in frequently to check on him, but if you need anything beforehand, let me know."

Dean stumbled over to the chair beside Sam's bed and collapsed into it, as Gloria left the room.

"Oh, Sam," someone muttered.

Dean looked up to see Sully standing next to Sam's bed, looking down at him glumly.

"Sam is so far away," Sully said, dejectedly.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Zanna can sense when their kid...or even their former kid...is gone...or...,"

"Or what Sully?" Dean demanded.

"Or in the in between," Sully finished, confirming Dean's fears. "Like after the trials when Sam was so sick."

"You knew?"

"I always kept an eye on Sam. He is... _was_ my best friend," Sully corrected. "If you want me to go, I can," Sully offered. "I mean your his brother, and I'm just, me."

"No, it's okay," Dean said honestly. Although he didn't want to admit it, he found Sully oddly comforting. At least he didn't have to go through this alone. He'd called for Cas during his pacing and didn't receive a response.

He watched Sully lean on the railing of Sam's bed, not daring to touch him, and Dean wasn't sure what he saw in his face, but he swore he saw some guilt there. He had no idea why, or why Sully spoke of Sam being his friend in the past tense, but he understood the feeling. Right now he wasn't sure how to reach out to Sam either.

"You know, I never understood why Sam even liked me," Sully began, wistfully, looking down at Sam's face.

Sam's features remained relaxed, his hair resting on the pillow, his long, dark eyelashes standing out in contrast against his pale skin.

"I wasn't as cool as any of the others," Sully continued. I didn't have a mermaid tail, or play air guitar like Weems, or sparkle. Aside from whipping up marshmallow nachos, there wasn't anything really special about me."

"Well, Sam saw something there," Dean replied.

"I know," Sully said, his voice cracking. "Sam sees the good in everyone. That's what makes _him_ so special."

"You listened to him when he needed it," Dean continued. "I guess, for Sam, you did sparkle."

Dean was surprised by the moisture that sprung to his eyes then, because he hadn't been listening to Sam had he? Sure Sam acted like he didn't want to talk, but he was sending signals left and right. He should have been trying to understand his silence and coax him out of it, instead of reprimanding him for it.

"But I was nothing like you," Sully said, turning to him.

"Huh?" Dean asked, regaining his composure, taken aback.

"I mean, I was always so jealous of you," Sully continued, shyly, then. "Because I knew I wouldn't get much time with Sam, not once he started hunting with you. He was so torn with his hopes and dreams. He had a negative view of himself, but he always wanted to be just like you. I wanted him to see that he was pretty great too, no offense."

"None taken," Dean said quietly, taking this in.

"He talked about you non stop, how cool you were, how brave you were, how you always protected him."

"Sully, stop!" Dean blurted out. He didn't mean to be rude to him, but right now, everything was just too confusing.

Gloria walked in at that moment and Dean was grateful because he couldn't bear to hear how wonderful he was right now, not when it was so off the mark. If he hadn't spoken to Sam the way he had, maybe Sam wouldn't have gone to get a drink and would never have been hurt so severely.

"I'm just here to check Sam's vitals," she said, sheepishly, as if she could sense the tension in the room even though she still couldn't see Sully. She approached the bed and jotted some stuff down but Dean could see that Sam's condition was unchanged.

ooooooo

Days passed and Sam remained unconscious. Dean noticed Sully came and went. Sometimes he'd be gone for awhile, then he'd go grab a coffee and find Sully standing by Sam's bed when he returned. He expected he still had duties to fulfill as a zanna, whatever those duties were. Sully had worked up the courage to rest his hand on Sam's, which was now encased in a cast. That was more than Dean could say for himself though, because he hadn't been able to do the same.

Dean had just spoken to the doctor one afternoon, when he walked in to find Sully crying. He apparently didn't hear Dean walk in because he didn't acknowledge his presence. Dean didn't mean to eavesdrop but he stopped to listen.

"I'm really sorry, Sam. This is all my fault. I didn't know it would turn out like this. I never wanted to see you like this," Sully sobbed into Sam's arm. "That's why I didn't want you to be a hunter but I know it's what you were meant to do, save people. That's why you saved those people. You have to wake up. Dean needs you. The world needs you," Sully sniffed.

Dean cleared his throat then, and Sully jumped.

"What do you mean this is your fault?" Dean asked.

"I tried to tell you but then I was afraid to tell you. I had a vision, Dean, of the whole accident."

"A vision? Is that normal for you guys?" Dean asked.

Sully shook his head.

"So you knew Sam was going to be hurt, but you couldn't stop it?" Dean asked, a hint of resentment in his voice.

"No, I...I got it wrong. I don't know. In my vision, it was Sam driving the car, and those people dead on the ground. Then Sam was in handcuffs," Sully winced, waiting for Dean to throw him out.

"So that's why you showed up again? To try to stop Sam from making a mistake?"

Sully nodded.

"It's not your fault," Dean said simply, all animosity gone.

"I should have been able to do something! I'm not a good person, Dean! First Audrey, and now Sam! I hurt people. Sam was right when he took back what he said about heroes not being perfect. All I do is make matters worse."

"You know who you sound like?" Dean asked.

Sully shrugged.

"Sam."

"Sam said I was just as screwed up as he was."

"That's not what I mean, Sully. I mean, you both _think_ you screw everything up, but you don't. No wonder you two got along. Both always thinking you cause more harm than good and both wrong."

"But even Sam agreed with me. He said I was a nuisance."

"That wasn't Sam talking," Dean began. "That was his fear talking," Dean continued, looking at Sam in the bed. He looked so vulnerable, and it was as if Dean was finally seeing everything a lot more clearly. "He's not sure who or what he can rely on anymore, so he's pushing everyone away."

"He said no one cares. He said God doesn't care."

Then everything hit Dean at once. The cage, how Lucifer told Sam that _he_ had been the ones sending the visions, not God. His brother _always_ had faith., even in the darkest of moments. He had faith that God was trying to help him. What did he have to rely on now that he faced his darkest fear, and he'd been left alone with the enemy both literally and figuratively? How could he cope when all he believed in so strongly was taken away?

"Did you have a fight with Sam too?" Sully asked, quietly, interrupting Dean's thoughts.

"How'd you know?"

"Sam told me to tell you he was sorry, right after he was hurt and before he...fell asleep," Sully said, choosing his words carefully.

Again, Dean had to rein in his emotion, realizing that in what Sam thought were his last words, he felt he needed to apologize.

"You mind leaving me alone for a minute with Sam?" Dean asked.

Before he could blink, Sully was gone.

Dean approached Sam's bed. Most of the cuts and scrapes had healed so Sam's face looked less raw. If not for the mechanical rise and fall of his chest, he'd look like he was in a restful sleep. Dean noticed that Sam hadn't looked that peaceful in awhile, usually his forehead crinkled in consternation.

"We need to talk, okay little brother?" Dean said, placing his hand over Sam's, reaching out to him for the first time since he was admitted. "As soon as you wake up, we're going to discuss this, and there won't be any running away from it this time. You kind of can't anyway," Dean smirked, ruefully. "You don't need to tell me you're sorry Sam. I'm sorry," Dean finished, allowing his mask to crumble as a sob wracked his body, all the anxiousness and fear from the last several days finally catching up with him.

oooooo

Sam lay comatose for nearly two weeks even after the ventilator was removed and a nasal cannula replaced it. Dr. Emilio informed him that the longer he stayed under, the more likely it was that Sam would suffer some long term effects. Sam's internal damage was healing. His organs were functioning well despite being displaced in the accident and he wasn't showing any signs of infection. The MRI of his head hadn't shown any significant damage but the doctor warned that even though Sam's brain appeared uninjured, he had indeed struck his head. Also, the fact that Sam was without oxygen and a heartbeat for so long were still a concern.

The doctor had also brought up the fact that Sam's blood alcohol level was high when he was brought in and questioned the reason behind it. Dean had staunchly defended Sam, telling him that it was just a one time occurrence and that he'd been drinking with a buddy who was getting married when the accident occurred.

Dean kept vigil by Sam's side, clutching his hand through the railing, while Sully hung back. Dean could tell that no matter what he had said to encourage him that the guilt was still eating him alive. The arm that was in a cast jerked on the bed, and off the pillow. Dean carefully put it back. He knew not to get his hopes up. Sam's muscles moved involuntarily all the time and the doctor said it happened with comas.

The nurse came in to check Sam's bandage and Dean cringed at the wound on Sam's abdomen even though it was healing well. The surgery had started with a smaller incision but that had gone out the window and turned into a full laparotomy when Sam bottomed out, which meant carving into Sam, more healing time, and more pain for his little brother.

Dean was lost in thought, while Sully stared out the window as she did what she needed to do and left. Dean looked over at the cheerful flower bouquet that had arrived a few days earlier from the Wongs, the family that Sam had saved. There were carnations, roses, and daisies but their splashes of color did little to brighten the dreary hospital room.

The physical therapist arrived soon after and Dean backed off. She came in at least once a day to turn Sam, to move his arms and legs, and make sure he was getting blood flow and that his muscles didn't atrophy. Most of the time, Sam was limp as a ragdoll and didn't respond to the ministrations. Dean watched silently as he saw Sam's eyes flutter. Despite what he knew, he couldn't stop the catch in his breathing. Was this just more involuntary movement or something more?

"Sam?" Joy, the therapist, questioned. "Does that hurt?" She asked him, as she lifted his arm.

Sam scrunched his eyes this time, in response.

She pulled out a penlight and lifted Sam's eyelid, shining the light right into his eye.

Sam flinched away and grunted in response.

"Open your eyes for me, Sam," Joy instructed.

Dean jumped up, just in time to see his brother's eyes open, painstakingly slow, as they tried to focus.

"Can you look over here?" Joy asked.

Sam obediently turned his head in her direction.

"Now can you look at your brother?"

Sam turned his head again, and looked him straight in the eye.

Dean felt relief rain down on him, like parched flowers after a drought.

Dean looked for Sully, to see if he shared in his jubilation. However, he was gone.

ooooo

Dean had to leave the room once Joy called for the doctor. Dean anxiously waited outside, crossing his arms and biting his lip. He knew Sam could follow directions and recognized him, but other than that he wasn't sure. He hadn't spoken at all and he still looked a bit dazed.

"Sam's doing well," Dr. Emilio said, when he exited Sam's room.

"So his brain and everything then, I mean, it's fine," Dean said, realizing he was rambling.

"I don't believe Sam suffered any lasting brain damage, but it's difficult to say because he's still in the process of returning to consciousness. His speech is somewhat clipped and he's a bit foggy on some things. I think pain plays a role in it as well. I've given him some mild pain killers. I don't want to give him anything too strong, that's going to impact his level of consciousness further or impede his breathing. I think with time, he'll recover all of his faculties."

Dean digested this information as best as he could. He wondered what Sam remembered, and for a fleeting moment, he hoped Sam forgot everything from the last few weeks, especially the cage.

Dean walked back to Sam's room and his eyes were again closed, but he opened them as Dean approached the bed. He looked groggy like he was fighting sleep.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, softly. "How you feeling?"

"T...tired," Sam said slowly, with effort.

"Are you in pain?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Car. S...Sully," Sam managed, before his eyes slid shut as he fell back into sleep.

"Rest," Dean said to Sam's sleeping form, pulling the blanket over him, and adjusting his arm back on the pillow.

Dean looked around for Sully but there was still no sign of him.

oooooo

Sam still slept often even when he was officially out of his coma. However, after a few days, each time he woke up, he was more lucid. When he talked, it was clear he was rapidly regaining his speech, stringing sentences together cohesively. Dr. Emilio was 'pretty positive' as he put it that Sam's brain was fine. Sam hadn't mentioned anything about the cage, their fight, or what happened with Sully though and Dean was hesitant to bring it up. If Sam was focused on his recovery at the moment, Dean didn't want to hinder it in any way.

Dean was surprised one day when the doctors suggested that they get Sam up and walking because to Dean, Sam still seemed far too weak. However, the next day the doctors had Sam standing on his own two feet with assistance, having him walk the corridor. He was a bit off balance at first, especially with the cumbersome cast he sported. It was also obvious he was in a great deal of pain, and Dean could tell when he had enough, even though he wanted to push himself further. He stood near Sam's door with his wheelchair as he gratefully collapsed into it, his hair clinging to his head with perspiration. He coughed slightly and seemed to be breathing heavily.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

The doctor had warned that Sam's lung capacity might not be completely back to normal for awhile, with the injury to his diaphragm.

"Burns a bit," Sam said, rubbing his chest, breathlessly.

"Let's get you back to bed," Dean suggested.

He wheeled Sam back into the room, and was about to help Sam get back in bed, but Sam shook his head.

"Your hip," Sam said, simply.

"It's completely fine. Come on Sam. You did enough for today. Let's go."

"It will never be enough," Sam said, quietly.

Dean knew then that Sam's mental scars were surfacing now, like mud beneath the snow. Perhaps they'd taken a backseat with his recovery at the forefront, but now that he was getting better, he couldn't ignore the less visible bruises any longer.

"Dean, when we went on that hunt at that church, you know what I felt?" Sam continued.

"What Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, casting his eyes downward.

"Huh?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.

"That's why you got hurt. I'm sorry."

"Sam, I told you it's fine. No harm done."

"I totally spaced out in there," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Before, whenever I'd go in a church, even for a hunt, or to speak with the priest, I'd always feel this...this peace," Sam began, picking at the cast covering his hand. "But when we were hunting that poltergeist, I didn't feel..." Sam sniffled, his voice trailing off. "I didn't feel how I used to."

Dean could see how teary eyed Sam was, and he hadn't even thought how the hunt might have ultimately impacted Sam, to be confronted with his faith and his potentially new perspective on it. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he didn't even know if Sam still had faith or what he thought about God anymore. Sam's behavior before the accident suddenly made a lot more sense.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, honestly.

"I'm the one who is sorry Dean. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I'm sorry I lashed out at you. I was an idiot. I was naive to think God would even care about me. It's just that...I don't know."

"What is it?"

"When I first said yes to Lucifer, I knew what I was up against. I knew where I'd be going when I jumped into that pit, but I was at peace with it. I felt despite everything that God forgave me. I thought he was still with me, despite everything I'd done, and even through it all, he still cared. I thought maybe he helped me, maybe he was even...proud of...me," Sam stuttered, as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Then when I was in that cage and Lucifer told me it was him all along sending the visions, I never felt so abandoned, so completely and utterly alone. I just feel like Lucifer will always have the upperhand. I'll never be free."

Sam's shoulder shook now, as he tried and failed, to prevent the tears from falling, but he couldn't.

"Maybe he was lying Sam. You don't know it was him the whole time," Dean replied, placing his hand on Sam's back, trying to give his brother some reassurance.

"Yes I do!" Sam shouted, jerking away from him. "If there's one thing I know is when he's telling the truth. I let myself get tricked again. You must think I'm a fool. You knew the whole time that it wasn't God."

"What do you think I'm going to say I told you so Sam?"

When Dean looked at his brother's expression, he knew that was exactly what he was thinking, and an ache washed over him like he was coming down with the flu.

"I'm the fool, Sam, for not trying to understand your faith in the first place. No one tricked you. You won. You're free, and he's not. You looked that son of a bitch right in the eye and told him no. You were willing to die than let him be free again."

"I just wanted to fix things, with the darkness, but all I did was mess up again," Sam sniffed. "I was deflecting and I pushed you away, and even Sully too."

Dean felt helpless to comfort his brother. He knew he was suffering, but he couldn't provide any proof that God did actually care. His own mind was made up on that matter which was probably why Sam hesitated to talk about his crisis of faith in the first place, but he could tell Sam desperately wanted to believe. All he could do right now was let Sam know that he was there and that wasn't going to change.

"Why don't we get you back into bed?" Dean suggested, helping Sam up. This time he didn't protest, and he could see the exhaustion in Sam's eyes, not just physical but mental as well.

Sam gingerly tried to make himself comfortable, as Dean arranged the blankets.

"You didn't push me away, Sam. I know I was never big on this whole God or faith thing, but I know you're hurting and I'm here. You can talk to me."

Sam just murmured and nodded as he rested his head on the pillows, dried tears still visible on his face, his cast cradled to his chest. Dean knew that Sam was already half asleep. He watched him for awhile and could tell Sam was restless even when he had settled into sleep, attempting to turn over and getting entangled in his IV lines.

Dean reached over to fix them, when he spotted Sully out of the corner of his eye. When he saw Dean had caught sight of him, he bolted.

"Sully!" Dean yelled after him as he rushed out of Sam's hospital room.

Dean chased after him, not knowing where he went once he was out in the corridor. It wasn't like he could ask anyone if they'd seen someone in rainbow suspenders that was technically, kind of, sort of, imaginary. For all he knew, Sully might have vanished into thin air. He spotted him again, as he exited out to the stairs. He followed him.

"Sully! Stop!"

Sully looked frightened but he obeyed.

"It's hard to see Sam that way," Sully said, forlornly.

"Have you been watching him the whole time?"

"Off and on, but I can't let Sam see me."

"What? Didn't you just hear what Sam said?"

Sully shook his head no, meaning that he'd only arrived as Sam was falling asleep.

"I saw him walking in the hall and then he looked so sad, so broken. I did that to him. I wanted to come back one last time when he was asleep just to say goodbye."

"Sam wants to see you. He thinks he pushed you away again."

"Sam doesn't want me there," Sully replied.

"He needs you Sully."

"He has you, Dean. Sam has never needed me."

"Sam needs everyone who cares about him right now. If you ever really gave a damn about Sam, you'll come," Dean said, finally before leaving the hallway and heading back to Sam's room.

He knew he'd placed a pretty big guilt trip at Sully's feet but it was better than Sam feeling guilty over something else and thinking Sully hated him.

oooooo

Sam slept on until the early evening, when he finally woke up, dark smudges casting shadows under his eyes.

Dean heard Sam's hospital room door creak and he half expected a nurse or a doctor but then he saw Sully there, hanging back.

"Sam, you have a visitor," Dean said.

Sam wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

Dean moved out of Sam's line of vision so he could see.

"Sully," Sam said, breathlessly, a tiny smile, tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I'm sorry," both Sully and Sam said in unison.

"Sully, what do you have to be sorry for?" Sam asked. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. Before I was just a dumb kid, but now I just acted like one."

"No, you were right. I messed everything up," Sully replied, approaching Sam's bed. "My vision was wrong."

"It wasn't wrong. That could have been me driving that car. I was going to drive Sully and I would have killed those people. Just thinking about it makes me sick," Sam said, his face growing pale. "I should be thanking you for stopping me."

"But I never wanted you to get broken, Sam," Sully said, still not convinced he'd actually been helpful.

"Truth is, I've been broken a long time," Sam replied, looking at both Sully and Dean. "I guess I'm just not sure what to believe in anymore."

"You can believe in Dean, in me, and...God," Sully hesitated on the last one, as Sam looked away sadly.

Sam shook his head.

"Ever think that maybe God sent _me_ that vision?" Sully said expectantly.

Dean watched from a distance, and for the first time in a long time, he saw hope flicker in Sam's eyes.

"Zanna don't get visions, Sam, so I have no idea where it could have come from. I've been thinking that God wanted me to stop you from making that mistake, because he needs you fighting for him. He needs you to stop the darkness."

"I don't know, Sully," Sam said, picking at the blankets. "You don't know for sure either."

"I have faith, Sam. Do you?"

"I believe in you, Sully, and in Dean," Sam replied, still looking uncertain about his faith in God, or even himself.

"We believe in you too," Dean said, joining in.

Sam smiled then, so faintly, almost imperceptibly, but just enough that Dean could see some small part of Sam's faith restored.

ooooo

Later Sam's dinner cart was rolled in and Sully picked it up and grimaced. He whipped up some trademark marshmallow nachos and Dean was shocked to see Sam actually eating some.

"Anything is better than hospital food," Sam said with a shrug.

Dean didn't look convinced, but didn't want to be left out so he grabbed one as he sat on the edge of Sam's bed.

"You know these aren't that bad," Dean said, after taking a bite.

Sully grinned.

"Ever think your brother's a bad liar, Sam?"

Dean's face contorted and he spit the food out on the bed.

"I'll take my chances with this," Dean said, grabbing the dinner cart.

Sam laughed then, longer than he had in awhile.

As Sam sat there chewing the salty sweet concoction, looking at his brother who cared about him more than anything, and at Sully who cared a great deal about him too, he felt just a tiny bit of healing settle into him, stronger than any medicine the hospital could provide. He felt just a flicker of his faith return to him and the bars on Lucifer's cage bending back just a bit.

The End.

Thanks so much for reading :)


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